


Play of the Game

by CravenWyvern



Series: DS Extras [76]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Triumphant Skins, chess pieces - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26330380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CravenWyvern/pseuds/CravenWyvern
Summary: It's just a game of chess.
Series: DS Extras [76]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/688443
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Play of the Game

**Author's Note:**

> Had this idea when I first got into Don't Starve.

"Pawn, takes Knight."

A flashing grin out in the darkness, the shifting in the air as a long taloned hand rose from the fog, stretched and wiggled claws overdramatically, then took up the little marble pawn between two fingers and tipped over the opposing knight.

There was a snarled hissy complaint, mumbled curses, but then the marble knight was snatched off the table and cradled in blackened, charred hands, pale eyes flashing with white fire, offended, but the grin flashed back was cheeky and not at all daunted.

"I suggest giving a bit more attention to your surroundings. Treeguards do not take well to fire, you know."

The snarl aimed at him gurgled into low scraping curses, embers flaring and ash hacked into powdery clouds about the board, but quieted as a few polite coughs and unpleasant frowns were angled their way, gloved hands and sharpened talons brushing off the residue from the checker surface.

Empty now of the knight, blazing that fiery path that she had, the board was looking a bit lonesome. On one side, a lone King; on the other, the opposing pawn. Shadows entrenched the sides, scars and marks from past battles, yet all about in their individual Thrones owners held their defeated pieces close, clasping or cradling the marble sculpted likenesses with masked expressions. The only one smirking was the pawns owner, and he cackled a moment, tapped his talons in a mock line directed towards the king, clacking his teeth in sharp snaps as all eyes darted towards the last opponent.

"Can't really go anywhere, can you?"

On the opposite side of the table the King's owner tapped his fingers together, fidgeted, adjusting his glasses then clasping his hands, hunching his shoulders as he glanced about to his audience and then averted his gaze. The pawns movement, a clawed grasp lifting the piece only to drop it down a square away, was sound enough to make him flinch, flushing pale as he avoided their gazes.

"Ah, oh dear."

Gloved hands fluttered over the King piece, hesitant, distinctly unsure, but there was nothing to be done and he pulled away as the pawn began his move once more.

The silence held as the marble clacked against the boards surface, along with oversized, violent teeth and an ever exciting hyperness building, the pawns owner having to stretch over more and more of the board just to continue moving, and each time the King sat, waited, stiff and silent.

"Anything else?" 

Practically cooed, self satisfactory and confident, talons lighting a grip about the pawns round little head, placed just so to the King, just about to attack, just about to defeat the last standing opponent. 

"Just dust and Them." Answered back in fashion, a stuttered intake of breath, held and then blown out, almost relief, almost hope just discernible enough for some of the others to shift, lean forward over the board to watch a bit more closely. "I have nothing more to say to you, pal."

The grin then somehow grew even bigger, more crooked, and a victory cry ripped from the pawn keepers throat as he raised his piece high, looming over his finishing blow, triumphant over it all.

And then there was a soft hiss, a swift, almost violent wind, and then said marble pawn was knocked out of the way, clattering to its side on the checkered board, rolling to a stop on a black square.

And, in its place, just so in front of the protected King, sat the high and mighty Queen.

There was a hush from the audience as the pawns keeper snarled, gurgled a growl and gnashed his teeth, taloned hands curled into fists as eyes snapped to the intruding winner, and his crooked fast frown was met with a grin that not even he could match.

"That's not fair, you cheat! I got there fair and square!"

The silence held heavy, eyes flashing between the angered loser and the haughty winner, nervous now as it stretched, just enough to start eating away at the pawns own confidence, but then the Queen hummed, tilted her head and made a little frowny face in answer, voice sweet and thin and layered over the veins of brittle hot threat.

"Are you accusing me of not knowing my own games rules?" There was shifting, as the pawn leaned back into his Throne, held her gaze a moment more before bowing his head, looking away, talons tap, tapping against the shadowy arm. The grin blooming towards him, spreading farther than it should, teeth too thin and too sharp, hungry, was tilted and masked with a mock innocence even he could notice. "You'd tell me if I was, right, dear? I certainly wouldn't want to ruin all the fun, after all…"

"N-no." A pause, as the pawn tapped his talons away and visibly grew uncomfortable, fidgeting and shifting about his too large Throne, the overcompensating now making a mockery of him. "Of course not, my Queen. I was...was simply frustrated, was all. I won't say such things again, I swear."

"Good, dear, good." There was the gliding of shadows, brief, brushing the board clean, explorative even, and the pawn flinched away from the curious talons sliding against him, holding his marble piece close to his chest, thoroughly scolded now. "Do make sure of that."

The King bowed his head nervously, adjusted his glasses as he shrank into his own seat, one more worn down and simple compared to the others, and the audience politely removed their gazes as the shadows brushed up against him in brief passing, almost affectionate if not for the way he flinched back and shivered under their touch.

The rest endured the moment, either looking away stoic or leaning into the Queens favor, but either way it ended as quickly as it had begun and with that the Queens elegantly carved marble piece was extracted from the board and hidden back away, into the shadows as her presence faded.

The Queen had too many matters to attend to, and the game was of lowest priority, after all. They should be happy to have even gotten her briefest of attentions.

After a moment, the pawns keeper drew in a breath, shook his head, and puffed himself out once more, adopting back the overconfident smugness of too much Knowledge and favor.

The others would have gotten punished for such outright behavior, but he knew as much as they did that the Queen favored him and his little pawn. It was one of the reasons why he was able to get so close to winning in the first place.

"I almost got you that time." A purred grin sparked on his face, lazing back in his Throne and eyeing his former opponent, tapping his talons together and rolling his pawn in between his dark clawed hands. "Just a bit quicker, and then…"

A snap of those talons, leaning forward with teeth bared in a smirk, and then the marble pawn was almost delicately place down, right upon a white square.

"I'd win."

There was a sharp scoff in answer, but not from the nervous King.

Smoke, and warm ember ash, drifted from nearby, almost giggles at the pawn keepers expense, and the defeated knights owner tilted her head and grinned a crooked grin as eyes drifted to her.

"You just got your ass handed to you. You think she'll let you get that close ever again?"

She laughed, rough and sparking low heat flames, bouncing across the board and earning herself a few disgruntled looks from other players, but she didn't seem to mind the attention. With a charred hand twirling in her flickering hair, the shallow heat still coming off her in waves, she pursed her lips as she leaned forward and deliberately placed down her black knight onto a dark square.

"Next time, try not to tell everyone _exactly_ what you're gonna do next, ya? Makes you look kinda stupid."

She grinned cheekily at the snarling hiss directed her way, soaking up his offended, scowling glare, shadow flames fluttering all about her, but before an answering retort could start there was a sudden sharp clearing of the throat that silenced the both of them.

A clawed hand reached out over the round table board, the dark glove sculpted to delicate talons and reaching all the way to merge to elbow, and down settled a marble pale bishop, landing to white.

"Do restrain yourselves from going at each other's throats. We all have a common goal in mind, after all."

The bishop keeper's voice made the knight duck her head, pale eyes averting her gaze and chewing at her lip, the glowing embers of her face dimming. It took the bishop's sharp look, shiny lit eyes just peeking over top dark turned glasses, landing upon the pawn just long enough to quail his impulsiveness, and he fidgeted, fiddled with his talons.

"Well, yes, yes we do, but still…"

A huff from the other side interrupted him, a thwump as a deep voice summoned up from a far deeper belly rose, and with a heavy handed slam down landed a white rook, thick and heavy compared to the others.

"Best listen well, little man." The owner smiled wide, the smoking, elegant mustache branching from his face curling as if with a life of its own, and beady pale eyes glanced briefly upon the lone pawn on the board. "You were very rude last game, didn't make many friends."

The pawns keeper was silent for a mere moment before coughing out a cackle, taloned hand going to cover his toothy mouth, and his voice was thick with amusement.

"Making friends won't ensure a victory! They'd weigh me down, and the only use of them is to trip them up when running from the hounds!"

"I HAVE MADE THAT CONCLUSION LONG AGO." There was a mute sparking, hissing steam that interrupted with high pressured bursts, and then the squealing of metal and gears before an arm whipped out, giant pincers near delicately placing a black knight down upon a black square. "DO NOT COPY MY PLANS."

That caused a sputter of embers and flame giggles from opposite of them, and the rooks owner humphed, great taloned hand rising to twirl his smokey mustache in thought.

"I thought long and hard of this, of your "plans"." The rook gave his head a small shake, an almost disappointed look that dragged low to his pinhole bleach white eyes and disproportionately sagging face, before dissipating into a neutral bared snarl of too many crooked teeth, the curling flicks of fine shadows rising and falling in a deep sucking inhale, gusting exhale. "Find that I do not like them, no. Allies are best, yes, not long dead corpses left in the field."

The pawn grinded his jaw, a shake of his own wild head causing the few others about him to lean back ever so slightly.

"Well, unlike _you_ , my "plans" all work out in the end. Who lived the longest now, huh?"

"That has never mattered, when death greets us all in the end." A softer voice answered him back, twisting shadows and an even larger presence that floated on the outskirts of the board, two pairs of pale eyes that both rose at the same time, both landed their unapologetic, apathetic gazes upon the haughty pawn owner. "One way or another, we all shall fall once more."

A small, delicate hand rose up, across the board, reached farthest from herself as a second shadow mirage mimicked her every move, and down went a black bishop upon a white square, tiny, thin talons gently pulling away with only the faintest of whisperings from the twin shade. 

"That's the damn point, isn't it?" Embers and sparking flames bit out in a clouded huff as the dark marble knights owner adjusted upon her crackling Throne, folded her arms with something akin to a pout settling on her charred and melted, burned up face. "No one's gonna ever win this stupid game."

"Yöu must be speaking in jest, för this is just a challenge!" A much louder, boisterous voice, and down slammed a black rook, the marble piece jostled and wobbling a moment before settling atop its black square, and the blocky toothed maw that grinned at the knights fiery owner was gutted with oversized teeth, jutting tusks and the ornate blackened armors that pierced up in solid black plating, red cloth peeking through the cracks like crimson splashed, soaked through blooded fabric, ginger hair tied in locks and coiled with dried blood splattered here and there; the stench of death wafted off her in much the same way as the waves of flame and destruction from her opposite opponent.

"Nö game has ever eluded my efförts löng, and this öne is nö different!"

"So you say." whispered the twin bishop owner, the overlay of whispers and double eyes glazed with a bored air to the softened tone. "If you wish to treat life as a game, then so be it. I must warn you, however; not everyone sees the same as yourself."

"Bah! Yöu are still yöung, inexperienced in blööd and struggle and victöry." The black rooks owner waved off such words, leaned back with a satisfactory grin pulling the stretched maw of her face, glowing inner flames of her eyes washed with the ghastly old dried splatters of blood still clotting across her corpse like skin. "There is much tö be learned in this, and a löng way ahead yet."

"I do not look forward to it with any glee."

The answer earned a much more disgruntled frown, but before any more could be said on the matter the dark knights flames gusted in an invisible wind, the huff turning into a coughing, choking laugh that sent up sparks of ember and ash, made the pawn owner beside her lean away with discomfort scrawled upon his scowling face.

"Maybe next time you should take someone down with ya instead of selling yourself short, kid." No matter the unamused look leveled her way, twin shadows and their bleach white leaking eyes and hollow, emancipated faces, the knight owner only shook her head, flaming dark hair whipping and rising smoke and steam up in its wake. "All that work, all that damage, gone just like that."

A flip of her wrist, cracked and charred skin glowing with the heat underneath, the snap of her fingers ending up another puff of embers and sparks of everlasting flame, but the twin dark bishop did not have time to answer before another piece was nudged upon the board.

"She...she was helping _us_ …" 

A slow drag on the last word, before hissing low into skittering twitters that over layered and overpowered even the very shadows own whispers, immediately catching the eye of every player upon the board as long taloned claws, many limbs reached out in the balancing acts of holding that small, pale marble piece, raised as if to consider where to place it.

And then down, a quiet clack to match the sudden hidden chittering that rose in distorted symphony as if in celebration, and the white pawn stood there upon the black square, farthest from the others, loneliest.

"We had a need for aid, and she...followed through." Many, many eyes, too many to count in the darkness of their twisting, twining and web entombed Throne, blinked out in some odd pairs and disjointed patterns, that low scrawling of skittering legs just audible to the background around them, though their opposite, with her second shadow and empty demeanor, did not seem to mind.

Neither did the massive, metal laden android beside them, twisted and spark body rigid and still besides for the deep inherent grinding of gears and inner workings, and nor the silent stiff shadowy figure beside them, her detailed talons clasped pointed in her lap, her white bishop still standing atop the board in front of her as she watched silently above her tinted glasses. The enreathed webs and slow shifts of hidden movement, the dark twisted Throne akin to an insect's tunneled nest, was no matter when compared to that which sat upon it.

The pale pawn before them still had some silk webbing drifting on it, long strings shifting faintly in an unknown, unfelt wind, and the chitters and chirps and low twisting gargles spread out for only a single moment before sucking back into their nest, back to the multitude of eyes that watched them all with a caustic glaze shielding each and every one.

"We appreciate that, and will repay back tenfold, cause…" They shifted upon their Throne, many gazes turning towards the shadow mustached rook owner and his barely there, barely noticed quiver, the faintest scent of inner deep depth fear and phobia. "Cause allies are good. We like 'em."

When they looked away no one commented on how the rooks owner untensed ever so slightly, the twist of his massive claws in a fumble and the way his pinhole bleach eyes drifted in sightless vague panic before dissipating in moments.

Unlikely as it seemed, many circling the table and its board and its hazardous game had a mild phobia to arachnids.

Across from the webbed pawns owner, the twin bishop gave them a shallow, delicate little nod, and though no one could see it between mandibles and eyes and fangs of varyingly venomous fluid leakages, web smeared and drifted and tangled into thick coarse greasy furs, there was a entirely genuine and full smile upon their spider twisted face in answer.

Even after last round, they were still friends. This made both shadow infused children very, very happy.

"...Well, I don't." The original pawn owner huffed, tap tapping his claws to his overlarge Throne, though it was obvious he wasn't quite as invested with his words as before. Chilling as arachnid clicking and clacking was, the skittering of legs here to there and the faintest itch, as if something was atop the skin, or perhaps burrowed below, it was well known of which out of them all the original pawn owner had a soft spot for. "But it doesn't matter, never did and never will; it's the winning part I care about."

"Ever heard that it's all about the journey, not the destination, eh?"

There was no grand entrance for the white knight, placed upon a white square and left there to itself, and the shadows hummed in barely audible voice as darkened claws brushed, pet along the shadow soaked axe in the knight owners lap. The shadows tipped the bristled ginger furs that trailed down and draped across skin, poked up in swatches from the gaps and tears in old sewn clothing, and though the teeth were not near as large as some of the others air still whistled out from them all the same, great heaves as the shadow second image lingered and twisted and turned, various shadow monsters enlarged in false images right behind him.

Something massive and winged, hooked beak and beady bleach eyes, clawed antlers and bulk to rival the giants of any season, any level of the board in gaping jaws and blunt shorn hooves, and the last hulking familiar form of gap teeth and round eyes and thick tail, twisted shapes now so other and wrong, curses haunting the back of the knight owners spine while the whistling whispers of another curse occupied his shadow entrenched hands.

Judging from his lax nature, another whistled breath from jutting teeth and the idly itching drag of claws through ginger bristled fur and beard, these curses were no weights upon his back, nor his twisted Throne that rose to accommodate each and every form thrown at it.

"Gotta enjoy yourself while it lasts, buddy, or else you're gonna be pretty darn disappointed."

"I'll enjoy it better when I _win_." hissed the pawn owner in retaliation, though it was done in a scowling pout and clacking jawed teeth, irritation thicker in the air now.

The knights owner shrugged, undaunted, and laid back to pet his attentions to his ever talkative, ever judgemental ax. 

She was louder, here, but ever so much more silent.

"You cut it close last round, dear; do not underestimate your opponents." A shift, dark glasses flashing as shaped claws adjusted them, stiff, tallbacked shadow form giving him a stern look, and it near almost looked as if the white bishop now opposed him directly, solid and confident.

Still, the pawn owner just deigned to look away; he was not in the habit of underestimating anyone, _ever_.

His early games had followed those lines, and the punishments after still marked him if he so chose to give himself a closer look. The Queen did not favor those who lost.

The words uttered had an undesired effect however; low gargled huffs, bubbled up and spat out in what seemed as if to be laughter, tee hees in a glee not many of them felt nowadays, and with a wet sodden splat a black pawn sudden thudded upon the board. Watery fluid splashed up against the black square, flooded about in a good few squares radius, lapping fairly closely to the white bishops silent watchfulness as those gargled laughs deepend into wet growls and choked spat out heaves of sound.

Bulbous bleach white eyes ran with filmy damp fluids in her giggles, and the bubbled up foam dribbled from her entangled jaws, too many fangs trailing through her sandpaper flesh and even reaching as far as to her very throat in jagged jumples of sharp teeth. The cartilage spines and spikes of her body, disjointed in raised fins and infused to her very bones, did not make her small appearance any larger; instead, it made the slimy little pawn owner seem even rougher, a tear against her already torn apart Throne, scaped shadow hanging in strips like flesh from her roughened skin, and she spat out even more giggles when all empty white eyes trailed over to her, dragging her webbed claws across her face in barely contained childish glee.

"Almost got you~" she bubbled, the foam and fluids leaking from her unhinged jaws as her bulbous eyes trained upon the pawn owner diagonal from her, far from her path and yet focused in on the white marble piece that she saw as obstacle and target. "Almost, he hee, slippery, you slip an' fall, go glub glub-"

She suddenly bared her jaw, mutated teeth and fangs in unorganized rows upon rows hooked in his direction as she slammed her wet webbed claws upon the board, tore streaks of shadow from her Throne as she jerked forward, fishy eyes focused upon the other shadow player.

"You hurt book lady, you bad man!" Her voice had rose in an instant, harsh garbled snarling as her fins rose, as her spins and ragged splintered skin bristled up, blind eyes all on him as the pawn owner leaned ever so slightly back from the display. "You slip again, glorp, you not get up again!"

The threat hung in the air for half a moment, and the white pawn owner blinked in a mild shock of surprise from the threat, but he did not have the time to speak before a dark gloved hand reached out and delicately touched the black pawn owner's jagged shoulder.

"Calm yourself dear; that is long in the past." The bishops owner watched above her dark glasses as the fish and shark laden form flopped back to her seat, tore through it as she wiggled and adjusted and pushed herself up to be comfortable, and though nothing could be said to stop that steel eyed bulbous glare from spearing the other pawn owner it was perhaps for the best.

"You better watch out there, now, looks like you made an enemy last round." A different voice spoke up, solid and deep and dark and yet oh so familiar, and every player stiffened only a moment before recognizing that their Queen was not in their company.

The one who had spoken seemed to recognize this and let out a gruff laugh, a shake to her head as she rose up and set down a white rook atop a black square, and the shadows bled off her in ways the others could not quite see nor make out, streaks that did not touch her dark, unmarked clothing, her Throne simple and yet hidden by a massive understanding of mechanical structure and gears and framework, the faint sounds of steam and grinding metal, but all was hidden away under her icey cool stare, unblinking, watching and favored as one of the highest to the Queen.

Envy shot sharp through the pawns chest as he tap, tapped his claws atop his simply overlarged Throne, envy that made his teeth grind and scowl deepen, but all it seemed to do was amuse the white rooks owner; a perfect smile was flashed, bared back at him, and behind it he could just barely see the jagged unhinged rot that was kept at bay under metal lock and steel key.

That, at least, oozed off in drifts, streams that curled the noses of any who noticed, but the rooks owner only gave a tense smile in answer back and continued on her way.

Favored by her sister, and cursed by the Queen. Envy still lived within him, but the pawn owner knew how much line he could cross and he was no simpleton. 

"Actually, you made quite a few enemies back there, didn't ya?" She didn't give him time to reply, only swiped her hands together, as if to wipe off hidden dirt, hidden streaks and flecks of shadow dusted away into the air, rot and disease sporing up in her wake. "Kinda fucked up a bit, leading some of us on like that."

"I had a _plan_ -" hissed the pawn, but it was too late.

"Yeah, got me right where you wanted me earlier. I'm sure neither of us saw those hounds coming, hey?" Jest was thick in her voice, but it couldn't mask that faint vein of red anger, splitting and moist and stingingly acidic, a spread of rot that seemed to crank up the rook owners smile another notch, almost as wide as the dear Queens earlied. "That's why you brought along a tentacle spike on a simple rock run, offered to help me get a few bags full, right?"

She leaned forward, ever so slightly, and beside her the shark monstrosity giggled up more froth, coughed up bubbles of salt and sickly swamp water muck. 

"Got me real good back there," she said, quietly, and there was still that familiar smile, that Queen copied smile, and underneath the thick stench of rot and poison and vile disease, "-but I'm sure this time it'll be different."

There was a grudge there now, tainted by whatever curse the Queens sister was bound to, and it made the pawn player swallow hard, clack his jagged toothy maw in mild discomfort and finally look away as the rook owner eased back to her Throne at his silence.

"...I almost _won_ …"

Quiet at that, in answer and it was still and empty for a few minutes as each player and their marble piece ruminated on the exchange.

Only a few moments, however, before a slithering, rasping sound echoed over the board. 

It dragged, faint at first and then suddenly amplified loud, the shifting of thickened roots and tugging branches and vines, and the piece set atop the board now was neither black nor white, was not of marble make; a singular faint glowing pawn, and the extended things almost akin to fingers draped crumbling dirt across its smooth surface and trailed it away in a line across the black and white squares of the board.

The wilted rotten thing, sitting beside the Queens sister, visibly heaved for breath, yet no sound graced from its rasps, its stuttered and faint odd, disjointed twitches. The glow underneath was hued sickly, a visible sickness in connection to the curse of the Queen beside them, and their sloping head lolled about their weakened, slightly crusted neck, the creak and twist and turn of half dead, half decomposed floral matter.

Jaws unhinged to expose a rotting gape of a mouth, vile ooze dripping from the eroded concaves of its makeshift teeth, and that sickly light pulsed in a rhythm no other player could ever take a guess at. 

"..No _win_..." The whine dragged, wheezed in utter silence, and the flesh floral petals of their very head, bark softened and riddled with holes and paths and caves of eaten through organic matter, pulsed and throbbed as they spoke. "You. You never win, noooo…"

A hushed effort to the gargle, and their Throne cradled them, cradled their disease ridden, parasite addled form, more vile nectar pouring from their eroded jaws.

"No win, not here." Their voice hushed, grew ragged, and their not marble hewn piece gleamed in an invisible light, glowed faint before fading out to normal. "No winning, this game. Long gone, long lost…"

They heaved a sigh, facial petals wilting and peeling back far for a moment, and there was the glance, the briefest of seconds; a fat bulging eye, blossomed red with burst blood vessels, with overlarge inflamed iris and jaundiced whites and a ghastly slitted blind excuse for a pupil, before with a shudder the rotten swatches of organic matter shifted and pulled and swayed back into place.

"...no win…" A last whisper, before the odd pawns owner went silent, quiet, hung up on a Throne of brambles and thorns, no more left to say within them.

It had taken months, to get the possible air to do so, to get the strength to do so. Perhaps even years.

It would take them longer yet to ever speak again.

"...how _enlightening_." Huffed the original pawn player, a roll of his dark beady eyes, the softest of glows as he turned his gaze away from the failure of complete and utter rot, but then he was jerking back to the side of his Throne as flames and spitting ash embers puffed at him in an almost slap, almost clean contact that had the heat waves roll off him in blistering threats.

"Don't be an asshole!"

The knight spat flames at him, rage burning under her blackened skin like molten magma, barely contained, and this time the white bishop did not speak up.

"Maybe this time I'll just help _them_ win, huh? Like that idea, motherfucker?"

"That is a terrible idea and you know it!" His sharp clacking teeth snapped back as he rose his voice, as he rose in his seat, and this time he toughed out the heat waves and flashes of inner fire leveled out at him. "You have no idea what'll happen if they actually _won_ -"

"Better than Mister Asshole Extraordinaire I'd say!" She shot back, and her embers and ashes were falling to streak against the board now, shaken atop the pawns own simplistic Throne and catching to his wild greasy shadow hair. "Maybe that's the way, you know, maybe if someone _different_ wasn't just killed from the start and actually got a fucking _chance_ -"

"...Don't I get any say in this?"

The resounding "No!"s made the King piece cower back down upon his seat, glasses flashing in the undirected glow of sharp, masked eyes, sallow pale face pulling into the usual frown, and he hunched his shoulders, laid back against the Throne as it coddled him with its claustrophobic shadows and whispers, though only a few players opted to give him a semi sympathetic glance. 

A part of him still wished the Queen was here, to give him the attention the others so seemed to be vying for; the other part understood all too well what that entailed and it made his insides _wither_ with disgust and horror and a faint tainted panic that he could never act upon.

He didn't like this place. The board was better.

But there was no way out but for him to lose, and he had to wait for that.

 _Grin and bare it_ , the King knew, though his weak attempt came off as a wobbly grimace, his frame so pathetically small compared to the dense monstrosities that circled around him, all fighting to win his place. If he could he'd have gladly given it to them.

None of them had their Thrones coddle and tie and bind so tightly as his.

And none of them had the Queen's attentions or her affections as sharp and rough as he either, and it made the King shiver, curl in in himself as he looked away from the others, to stare upon the board and its multitude of pieces.

As the arguing continued, now joined by a few other voices, defenders to the rotted thing that lay limp beside the Queen's sister, it was easy to note that there was still a piece missing.

The King player rose his gaze, lump in his throat and knowing why, and the glazed reflective void lenses flashed back at him from near his side met him back just as easily. There was a smile there, a thin line with only the smallest swab of darkness to indicate painted lips, before it split for only a half moment into needle sharp teeth and a cheshire grin that split the head like a perfectly cut egg.

Then it was gone again, and the player tilted his head, gave the King an oddly concerned look as he tried to not show how hard he was shaking, before raising up their piece and placing it silently atop the board.

The black pawn shone itself in complete and utter silence, a wave from the movement that cut off the shadows whispers and the much louder voices, and the red splashed fabric that encircled his throat was curled and twirled idly with thin, brittle claws, grey stretched gloves not able to hide the mark of thin jutting bone or wrinkled veins that interlaced from the knuckles to the wrist, to disappear under the pitch black clothing the pawn player wore. The small grin was still there, plump face plastered with thick white paste that enunciated the painted dark mouth, the round glass lenses and dark hinted blush, and the King quailed under the shadow players gaze and attention, tearing his eyes away and ignoring the pointed look of offense leveled his way as the pawn player crossed his legs and got comfortable upon his far plusher, smoother Throne.

"Is everyone now set?"

The white bishop's voice spoke of exasperation, but the stoic sense overruled and she looked upon them all over her dark glasses.

"Well, now that we got the last piece actually _on_ the dumb board-"

"Patience must be had when chöösing a starting pösitiön!"

"I DO NOT CARE WHERE ANYONE STARTS. KEEP OUT OF MY WAY OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES-"

"We're ready, mhmm!"

"Another life, another death is ahead of us. I see no reason to make plans when the end is inevitable."

"Just try to tough it out, kid, ol' Lucy here promises it'll be better this go around-"

"I promise too! Will do better, and no more listening to little man's bad plans-"

"They actually _work_ , if you all listened to me-"

"Like how I did, huh? We won't make it easy for you this time."

"Glorp, right, bad man win no games now, florp!"

The white bishop did not heave a sigh, only turned her stiff head ever so slightly to give the two silent players an affirming look; both black pawn owners nodded, one in a quick upturn and a dramatic wave of those needle thin claws, and the other a lolling roll of rotting organic matter and sloughing decomposing plant materials.

Enough of an assurance, and with that she turned a blind eye to the steadily growing more violent discussion, steely gaze landing upon the quiet, cowering King.

"Are we ready, dear?"

Her cold voice silenced the others, and so too did the sudden upheaval of shadow influence, everyone shivering and shaking themselves out at the energizing swathe of shadows and whispers and bated breath, and the Queen hovered behind her King, too familiar grin pulling at her face as she laid her hands upon his quivering shoulders.

He nodded hurriedly, even as his Throne tightened about him, bound him still as those shadow infused talons trailed up to his throat.

"L-lets begin-"

He choked up before anything else could leave his lips, tightened claws and going rigid as the shadows and their couriers all laughed, as a few of the chess players sniggered at his utterly pathetic display to the Queens wants, and she leaned forward, looked upon the board in idle curiosity as her King shivered and shuddered and struggled in vain for a breath.

"...You have all put so much thought into this one, haven't you?" Every player gave her a nod as she rose her gaze, looked upon each one, voice dainty and polite even as she choked the life out of her more favored piece. "What a cute assembly! I can't wait to see how it goes~"

She hovered, watched, ignored the fainter and fainter struggles and pulls to the Thrones embrace as her grasp tightened, before the pawn player, the original, the first and last, hesitantly raised a shaking hand, all bravado gone now as he leaned forward from his overcompensating Throne and shifted his white pawn one space forward.

And then the King was let go, collapsed weakly in his bindings and rasping for breath, shivering as the other shadow players averted their eyes to the tears and silent supplication as their Queen encircled him in a threatening hug, shadows oozing and easing away giggles at his expense.

Then she peeled away, left the King in his pathetically weak attempts to pull himself together, a last sing song note in her tone as she bid them farewell.

"Do have fun, dears! I am sure I won't be disappointed this time around~!"

The bulk of shadows pulled away, allowed the players their voices back, their confidences, and yet it stayed silent for the first round of moves.

Every game started this way, and silently, weakly, the King privately prayed to whatever abominable thing out there that watched that someone, _anyone_ will win this time.

The irony, in wishing he'd finally just _lose_ this time, was not wasted on William.


End file.
